


Vista

by Merfilly



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Community: tf_speedwriting, Gen, Introspection, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look through an artist's optics</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vista

The vista was breathtaking. The sun was at the perfect height, painting the sky in reds and golds that faded toward the deeper violets on the far side. The mesa was stretched out in gold and umber beneath it. It was a picturesque moment that was committed to memory in an instant, knowing the beauty was about to die as savagely as some of his comrades might.

Looking out, away from the painting he could see, the landscape was marred by hulking forms ready for war. Sparks of energy shields rubbing between combatants flared bright in the early morning light. At this distance, he could name the varied power sources based on the design of each weapon pulsing with its charge. He could see the need to destroy, feel it call to his own.

A glance to his side showed him his partner in that destruction, the haphazard grin already in place to match the scowl on his own face. Together, they would wreak havoc. They would paint the scenery with the livid purple of their enemies' life forces. They would litter the glowing mesa with the broken bits of metal from those who sought to control the skies. Behind them, the army stretched out, locked in pensive waiting. Who would be the first to break the deadlock today? How high would the sun rise in the sky before one person broke the rustle of morning with a laser pulse?

Which leader was sure enough that he had the battle this day? Would he sweep his army in as a conquering mass? Or wait, and let the other come to him, picking them off in acts of devastating mercy?

No matter the answer, an artist wept, while a warrior rejoiced in being the best, so that others did survive this.


End file.
